


Chaise, the Wall, and a Chaise-Longue

by viceroyvonmutini



Series: Oil Refinery Smutfest [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Kinda, sex in places the sex will inevitably be done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw's appetite for all things in life knows no bounds and Root isn't complaining as much as she should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaise, the Wall, and a Chaise-Longue

**Author's Note:**

> anon prompt: Shaw always asking Root for oral/sexy times. Like on stakeouts, downtime, missions, the subway....
> 
> This is a long overdue anon prompt and I know I officially said I wasn't going to do the smutfest because I don't have time I've decided to fuck it (in keeping with the theme...) and try to do this thing. 
> 
> I think the first day themes are...exhibitionism/voyeurism/unusual locations...tiny bit of exhibitionism but we're more for the strange locations in this one.

Root has a problem: Root can't say no.

She was independent, strong, powerful-she had a God in her ear fighting a war for humanity but she couldn't say no.

Not to Sameen Shaw. Never to Sameen.

She had known this for some time: she was the self-aware sort and knew the effect Sameen tended to have on her. She also knew that Sameen knew full well she could get Root to do anything for her.

Theirs was a fragile relationship and Root trusted Sameen: she had always placed faith in her and would continue to do so and so she trusted, not blindly but rightly, that Sameen would never misuse that power.

And Sameen never did.

Well. Almost never.

They weren't in a relationship but they did...do things...together. Root liked that. Root liked that they did things together. Root liked that they did things together a lot. But they weren't in a relationship. They had mutually decided that they enjoyed...doing things...together and that they would do things together without doing...other things...together and both were happy with this arrangement. Blissfully so, more often than not.

They had a lot of sex.

A lot.

Not that Root minded. She was just a little...surprised.

If there was one thing that consistently surprised Root it would be Sameen, but this was different. Here, she thought, was her territory- flirtatious advances, innuendos, demands for good old-fashioned sex- but as Shaw grew more comfortable within the arrangement, she also grew bolder.

And Root couldn't say no.

She tried, sometimes. Sometimes she tried to protest, to reason, but Shaw could be persistent and if she looked deep inside herself (often while she was deep inside Shaw but really that was beside the point) she didn't mind one bit. Her protests were half-hearted at best.

She was just...surprised.

She shouldn't have been: Shaw was well known for her appetite in all other matters so why would this be any different but there was something about her insistence, her complete disregard for location, comfort or even who might be listening in that had a certain way about it.

(When Root said that, of course, what she meant was that there was this thing that sort of burned and fizzled and let her know that despite her weak protests she was entirely okay with this development and the way Shaw looked at her let her know that Shaw knew that too and really they were both getting something out of this.)

Shaw knew Root couldn't say no. Wouldn't say no. The first time she had used her charm; by the second she knew she didn't have to.

Shaw was careful to never let it interfere with the task at hand-saving numbers-neither would allow for that but Shaw was also very convincing and when Sameen Shaw asks (demands) you on your knees at Harold's spinny chair then who was Root to say no?

She wouldn't.

Couldn't.

Absolutely did not want to.

 

* * *

 

'Root.'

'Yes Sweetie?'

The mission was over, the number saved. Shaw had been on nerd duty, feet propped up on the desk as Root put away her weapons behind her.

'I'm bored.'

It was as close to a whine as Sameen Shaw ever got but Root heard it all the same and turned around, tilting her head in reproach.

'Don't whine it's not attractive.'

Shaw's feet fell to the floor with a thud as she spun round to face Root stood some distance behind her.

'Entertain me.'

Root raised an eyebrow.

'And how would you like me to do that?' coaxed Root, taking slow steps forward.

'Come here.'

There used to be a shyness about Shaw, in the way she refused to demand anything overtly sexual from Root and it used to be Root's game to draw out precisely what was wanted of her knowing full well that it would end up with one or both of them gasping in pleasure. Now Root knew better. The game was a formality Shaw indulged in every once in a while. Shaw would ask for what she wanted with not even a hint of modesty and for all the self-professed overt come-ons it always made Root's stomach flutter and her nerves shudder and a faint blush to taint her cheeks.

But right now Shaw was being coy, for lack of a better word, and Root knew this territory: felt comfortable in it.

Root obliged, coming to stand just out of reach as Shaw looked up at her from her chair. Root raised an eyebrow and waited.

'Is there anything else?' she purred.

'Closer.'

One step. Shaw growled at the purposefully childish behaviour.

'Again.'

Root took a slightly smaller step, coming to rest in between Shaw's parted legs.

'Are you entertained yet Sweetie?' asked Root, innocently enough.

'I will be.'

It came out as a low growl and not even Shaw could have missed the way Root's eyes flashed at the tone.

'I don't doubt it,' she replied in what she hoped was a casual tone but detected a hint of breathlessness that shouldn't have been there at all.

'Kneel.'

It seems Shaw was tired of playing. The game could be short or long, depending on Shaw's mood. Root obliged either way.

She slowly knelt down, placing firm hands on each of Shaw's thighs to control her descent awkward in her heeled boots and cramped with her long legs but her eyes never left Shaw's as Shaw's gaze followed her down.

'Why so tense Sweetie?' questioned Root, face just above the seam of Shaw's black jeans, neck craned up slightly to catch Shaw's gaze.

Shaw didn't respond, shuffling down slightly in the chair.

'You know what I want.'

It would be too easy, wouldn't it, to tease: to get her to ask for it directly. Instead Root smirked and brought her hands forward, undoing the zipper and button with delicate fingers and far too slowly: casually almost.

'I think you get frustrated,' mused Root as Shaw raised her hips awkwardly and Root tugged hard, pulling the tight jeans down to Shaw's calves.

'You think?' growled Shaw.

Root laughed lightly, placing a small kiss just above the waistline of black lace. It was a surprise then too, the first time she tore down Shaw's utilitarian black clothing and found lingerie with a distinct feminine quality and not entirely practical. Not an unwelcome surprise, but a curious one.

'I do. Sat at that desk,' Root speaks between each kiss and nip, trailing down exposed thigh and raising Shaw's black top ever so slightly to expose abs that tensed as nails dug in and teeth bit, 'you work yourself up. It's not healthy.'

Shaw groaned at Root's slow pace but her hands kept themselves gripped to the arms of the chair, knuckles white.

'Then do something about it.'

Root let out a breathy laugh as she slowly pulled down Shaw's thin black underwear, stilling slightly eyes fixed on the apex of Shaw's thighs.

'What would you like me to do?'

Root could feel the eye roll and took great pleasure in it, knowing Shaw wanted what was coming more than she wanted to punch her.

'Stop stalling. Start fucking.'

'I love your way with words,' cooed Root, not wasting anymore time.

Root relished the way Shaw's body strung with tension as she lavished slow attention, not nearly the pace Shaw wanted but the pace she was going to get. Her hands firmly gripped the plastic arms of the chair, resisting the temptation to spur Root on and instead it was left up to Shaw's hips to cant further into Root's mouth but she was so _slow,_ leisurely lapping occasionally diverting attention back to her inner thighs, nipping lightly and utterly avoiding what Shaw wanted.

'Root,' growled Shaw, 'stop it.'

'You're tense Sameen,' muttered Root against her skin, gentle vibrations humming through her bones, 'I'm helping you relax.'

Shaw had a retort on the tip of her tongue but Root's tongue found itself a more interesting occupation and Shaw's words were lost in a restrained gasp. Shaw was always so restrained, even in these movements but Root liked the challenge, liked the reward when she pulled just the slightest sound: a strained breath or a silent gasp.

They were in no rush, or at least the Machine had uttered no warning in her ear as to the arrival of the other occupants of this subterranean base, so Root took her time and for what seemed like hours the only sounds that echoed were Shaw's laboured breaths and the slight squeak of the chair as Shaw's feet stayed planted, the only thing stopping it from spinning as Root’s tongue flicked and circled and lapped and responded to each clench, each twitch so terribly slowly.

Eventually, however, it grew harder for Shaw to stay planted, hips jutting, and it was up to Root to awkwardly hold Shaw in place unable to use her hands for the task in hand as they held the chair still and instead working faster with what she did have: sharp teeth and a strong tongue that never let up as Root committed fully to her task. The increased pace and vigour, each purposeful scrape over sensitive nerves soothed by fervent swirls of a woman who knew precisely what her goal was and how to achieve it and Shaw finally claimed her reward, thighs tight around Root's head and all Root knew in that moment was Shaw: her scent, her feel, her everything.

The air around them seemed to crackle with the discharge as Shaw slowly relaxed, body reaching a state of effortless bliss and Root raised her head, face glistening slightly. Her knees hurt like hell, her jeans were covered in dust, her hair was very much a mess and she was just slightly out of breath as she struggled to stand, using Shaw's thighs to push herself up slightly.

'Better?'

Shaw smirked, taking in Root's dishevelment and she knew Shaw took some pleasure in ruffling her.

'Much.'

 

* * *

 

It irked Root slightly that she liked it so much, even when she knew she shouldn't. It irked her that Sameen knew she liked it and took _advantage_ of it and it irked her that she didn't mind that Sameen was blatantly taking advantage of it and it irked her that it was exciting and thrilling and she couldn't say _no._

Shaw was lazy and Shaw was languid and Shaw just did not care who happened to be listening in. And what Shaw wanted, Root was generally happy to give.

 

* * *

 

'Augusta King. I'm here for Sameen?'

Fusco scowled and Root gave him a not even near sympathetic smile.

'You got a warrant Cuckoo's Nest?'

Root reached into her back pocket and produced said paperwork.

'I always come prepared,' she sung.

'Yeah yeah. She's in the back interrogation room. Anything else?'

Root pretending to think, tilting her head slightly.

'No thank you Lionel, I'll take it from here.'

She sauntered past, not sparing him a glance as Fusco look imploringly at his partner John Riley who simply shook his head. He didn't want to know what Root was up to this time.

'What took you so long?' growled Shaw upon Root's entrance to the small room.

'She had to dig up an old alias. We haven't got long before Samaritan tracks down its original owner.'

'Yeah well I've spent one too many hours in lock up,' grumbled Shaw as Root undid the handcuffs and set her free.

'What did we say about using rocket launcher's in public places,' cooed Root as she stood up straight.

Shaw glared.

'You got a plan to get me out?'

'It's called walking out the front door Sameen.'

Shaw stood up.

'How long's the alias good for?'

Root tilted her head in confusion as to why Shaw would care.

'A couple more hours maximum: there's a new one waiting when you're out on the streets.'

'Then we have time.'

Shaw pushed her into the concrete wall and Root startled.

'For what?'

She knew exactly what. Well, now she did in any case as Shaw roughly bit her neck, trailing her way up to her ear.

'Sweetie, now's hardly the time.'

A bite.

'Say that to woman who's been a cell for 43 hours.'

'Were you counting?'

Shaw was too preoccupied with her own pleasure to care what Root was doing but Root facilitated: angled a leg up slightly to provide friction and pulled Shaw closer to her as Shaw shamelessly rode her clothed leg. 

Shaw growls in response to the question, breathing heavily against her ear and really Root would usually find this crude and not very sexy at all but it's so _Shaw_ and who is she to deny a woman who's experienced the trauma of lock up, especially not when Shaw's flush against her like this.

_'Uh...Root?'_

Root tenses but Shaw doesn't stop.

'John.'

Shaw raises an eyebrow but doesn't stop her rocking hips and Root pushes her thigh up harder, earning an appreciative moan.

'Little busy here.'

_'I know.'_

Root's eyes shoot open and look through the two-way mirror.

'What,' she hisses.

Shaw increased her pace, pressing harshly against Root making it hard for her to hold a conversation. She can feel the awkwardness radiating from John through the coms, the unspoken words as Shaw's laboured breathing no doubt makes itself known to him. 

'Are you watching?' she teases, but there's a hint of panic in her voice.

Shaw doesn't seem to hear or care.

_'No! I would...she's...no. I don't want to know. Just...we need that room for an actual interrogation so if you could...speed it up.'_

Root hums.

'I'll ask her.'

Shaw bites down hard on Root's neck and she knows it's going to leave a brutal mark as Shaw quivers and tenses body crushing her against the stone wall.

'Looks like she's done,’ that has Shaw's attention and her head snaps up, eyes full of fury, 'we'll be out in a minute.'

John pauses.

_'Never mind.'_

The coms cut off as Shaw pulls herself away slightly.

'Better?'

'No,' growls Shaw, stalking away and Root chuckles slightly before following her to the exit.

 

* * *

 

The emergence of Samaritan was possibly the worst time to have started these sort of meet-ups but if there was one thing Root knew it was that nothing stops Sameen Shaw from attaining her goals. Or completing the mission. And if her mission happened to be using Root as a portable sex-toy then she was going to use Root as a portable sex-toy regardless of whether an evil robot was trying to take over the world or not.

Root tried to set boundaries she did, but Sameen was very persuasive when she wanted to be.

 

* * *

 

'Welcome Miss...Grey?'

Shaw was smirking. Root began to check the room: crush her phone, close the blinds offering Sameen Grey a drink and a seat on the chaise-longue.

Shaw reclined on the chair, her smirk never fading at the panicked surprise on Root's face.

The room clear Root rounded on Shaw.

'What are you doing here?'

'Can't a girl have a bit of psychotherapy?'

'Sameen...you shouldn't be here. Samaritan will-'

'A penis.'

Root blinked, confusion on her face.

'…Shaw?'

Shaw was rather relaxed on the chair, slim black dress hugging her figure, name badge still on: she had apparently come straight from the store.

'Whatever object you're going to show me: it looks like a penis.'

'Root looked back at her desk.

'I have a pipe? Would that make the experience you imagined more enjoyable?'

Shaw chuckled.

'Your mouth will be otherwise occupied.'

'Sameen,' warned Root, 'you shouldn't even be here. No.'

'It's been two weeks Root.'

Root sighed and for the first time Shaw saw just how tired Root seemed: worn down.

'This is war Sameen and Samaritan-'

'No time for nail polish?'

Root looked at Shaw in surprise, careful eyes watching her.

Slowly Root allowed herself a small smile.

'Too many identities, not enough time to change nail polish.'

Shaw watched and Root took a step forward.

'If you missed me all you had to do was say so. No need to waste your lunch hour.'

'I miss the sex,' dismissed Shaw and Root raised an eyebrow, perching on the end of the chaise-longue as Shaw reclined.

'Is that why you're here?'

'Yes.'

Root took a breath. Every instinct in her body said no. Every preservation technique, every piece of advice She had given her in preparation for the rise of Samaritan screamed at her to get Shaw out of here now.

But Shaw was looking at her with those eyes, cautiously waiting to see what Root would do. She had come here for sex. She knew the risks: she could have gone anywhere. She came to Root. She booked an appointment.

Root shook her head. Idiot.

'You're an idiot Sameen.'

'I'm horny Root. You gonna do something about that?'

Root put a light hand on Shaw's bare calf and trailed upwards, shifting her body to face Shaw as her nails raked up her leg.

'Well, I am a doctor,' intoned Root lightly, eyes locked with Shaw's.

Shaw scoffed, earning her a raised eyebrow.

'Tell me Miss. Grey,' Root's hand was now hitching up her dress, nails dragging softly, 'what seems to be troubling you?'

 

* * *

 

Sure, it could be inconvenient and yes, Root wasn't used to being out-sexed in certain areas but Sameen had this way about her. Root liked to think it was this indefinable, ethereal charm: the way her eyes seemed flush with anger and determination and 'come hither' all in one that made Root shudder, or the way she couldn't seem to resist Root, the subtle lack of control that slipped through every time Root's tongue flicked just the right way that only she was privy to but it wasn't.

Root knew it was her own helplessness. Root knew it was Shaw. Everything that was Shaw.

Root couldn't say no.


End file.
